Nothing to see here, move along
Dimitri watched the woman leave and shifted forward to peer after her. “Lukewarm?” He called after her, perplexed by such a statement. “If my hotcakes are too little for you then I’d hate to see what YOU'RE looking for” “I told you, I was a pilot with the nine-nine. If that doesn’t answer your question, then you definitely don’t have the hotcakes I’m looking for.” Dimitri looked on with a broad streak of genuine confusion dawning over his broad face. “Wait are you looking for specific hot cakes, because these ones have some real heat packed... Wait are we even talking about same thing?” A expression of genuine confusion and bewilderment dawned on the man. This is why Dimitri preferred simpler life. When living off glorious bounties of land there was no need to wonder if you should put yourself as a high yield explosives dealer. There was no need to be under protection of Tang. There was no need to be sitting on top of imprisoned alliance officer. Dimitri was simple and well versed at many things. Gifted with certain virtues and skills. Patience sadly, was a virtue he lacked. "Yes," She replied, sounding sharper than intended. "I'm looking for a very specific sort of hotcake. The kind of hotcake that the 99th was especially known for. I'm a pilot, not a grunt. I'll check elsewhere." There was another scuffle from behind the table, and Riley suddenly became aware of how many alliance were in the area. In her experience, having flown transport for such missions, it was either a crackdown, where they were looking for specific criminals, or a shakedown, where a greedy commander was looking for credits in exchange for not noticing any illicit activities. Riley didn't fit into the first category, but she was still carrying a good amount of credits from the gin sale. They could easily find a minor infraction to pin on anyone. She climbed back on the mule, with the intention of heading back to the ship and swore underneath her breath. It was looking more and more like she'd be leaving Persephone empty handed. Dimitri looked back apprehensively and bounced over his stand and dashed up towards the front of the four wheeled utility vehicle, issuing a few short raps and shouting, “Wait before you go please don’t leave me. I barely have what I have at this stand and if I don’t make a profit I could end up in worse places than behind bars. I have a deal.” Riley folded her arms across her chest and scowled, “What kind of deal?” “Dimitri isn’t very fond of the inside of a cell so I bring you my offer; my wares and er, skill set, in exchange for passage away from...” He looked back at the shady market, practically feeling the officers just around the corner as the scuffle was growing marginally louder. If he didn’t act now, he wouldn’t have time to secure his wares. “This.” Riley stroked her chin as if deep in thought. "The Captain don't particularly like picking up any rabbits. But we've transported worse for less. So if I get this right, you are offering both your wares and your skill set in exchange for a ride on out of here? We get your wares?" It sounded like they would make out, if he were selling weapons, there was always a big call for that on the black market. "Fine. You got yourself a deal, Hotcakes. Grab your shit and climb aboard." Riley lowered the tailgate of the mule so he could load up what he had. Dimitri clapped his hands together in an eager fashion, rubbing then together. Finally a way off this rock. “Thank you very much pilot lady, I am Dmitri Yolrick, at your service. And you are?” "Regretting this already." Riley grumbled. "Thorne, Riley, Pilot. Welcome aboard the...." She looked down at the craft. "Welcome aboard the mule that will take you to the Lunar Veil. I'd hurry my ass up if I were you. We're going to have company right soon." Dmitri turned and dropped the smile. He went with purpose, heaving two pelican case-like crates above his shoulder, dumping them in the tail gate. He slid one more case, an old looking steam trunk in and went back to grab what looked like a thick rolled mat, and slung that on his back. Finally after ensuring his most personal affect was securely strapped, and that he had his side arm secure and loaded in his waist holster, he pounded on the digital lock on his makeshift stool crate to double check that it was indeed locked. Being satisfied he roughly carried it to the tailgate, jerking about, heaving it heavily onto the back of the mule with a loud thud and bang. He stepped in, kicked the battered case against the wall til it sat flush, and sat with a hearty sigh on top of it. He gave the side two hearty slaps and pulled out a pipe and match. He was home free as far as he was concerned.